With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. "What's that?" demanded McClintock. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter.
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